


Black Brocade

by Onehundredcandlesburning



Series: Black Brocade [1]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Clothing Kink, Corsetry, Erotica, F/M, Fishnets, Velvet - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-16 14:19:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1350514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onehundredcandlesburning/pseuds/Onehundredcandlesburning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(OFC/Reader) and Tom are in a darkened, sensual bedroom with dark red velvet curtains all around. She is dressed up in a corset, fishnets and heels just for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Brocade

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: swearing and sexual acts
> 
> It is imperative that you listen to this song whilst reading this story: [Magicfuturebox - The Few Moments](http://youtu.be/sU8Nt-JIN58)  
> (Right Click, open link in new tab to listen and read at same time)

The bedroom was draped in candlelight, heavy smoke from the rich, musky incense, burning and dark. Heavy crimson velvet curtains hung all around the walls. A candelabra on each bedside table, and music playing.

She wound her fingers through one of the curls in his hair, he dropped to his knees before her. His hot breath against her abdomen. He felt the strong boning of her corset under the black brocade, his hands moving around to the back of the garment. Strumming at the lacing, taut, holding her in so tight her breathing was high and shallow. Her breasts heaving with each breath. He looked up, mountainous heaving chest. Round, firm hips. He ran his hands below the corset, flicking the bottom of the v it came to just in front of her womanhood. The small ruffle of black tulle skirt underneath, growing slightly longer at the back and flipping out over her ripe behind.

He was on his hands and knees at her feet. Almost 5 inch heels. Mary Jane’s, burgundy suede half way up, then black leather. Stiletto heel. He was amazed she was able to stand on them. He pressed his cheek against the suede over her toes, and ran his hand along the back of her heel, up along the wide-weave fishnets tights. Lightly rubbing at her calves with both hands. She widened her stance, curling her lower back to jut her bottom out and bend over to watch him. He looked up at her. His eyes half-closed, overcome with a fevered hunger.

She grabbed at his hair, her fingers entwined, tilting his head right back, lips parting and a slow moan echoing. She ran a fingernail gently under his jaw. He wanted her unlike he had wanted any other woman. She was wrapped up in this divine, dark, sensual, teasing package just for him. From this day forward, no one in the world would get to see her as she stood right now, except for him.

He reached her thighs with his hands. The catching of the net under his fingers delighting him. He could still feel her silky skin underneath the fabric, but the little web of net made the whole experience of touching her so dramatically different. This was the definition of intimacy.

He reached the top of her thighs with both his hands, reaching around and under the tulle. He squeezed her tightly, massaging in concentric circles. She had no underwear on. Nothing. He groaned, pushing her legs aside further. She obliged him, standing with her feet now past shoulder width. He dipped underneath the front small layers of tulle and felt she had a garter on, but his suspicions were confirmed as his fingers dove into her wet folds. Her knees buckled. He stood up, hunched, maintaining his contact with his fingers, brushing along her valley, spreading her moisture, which seemed to be ever increasing.

He wrapped an arm around her back, lifting her like a mannequin. Taking the bulk of her weight on his shoulder. He carried her three steps to the bed. Her chest, neck and cheeks were flushed, knowing the spell she had cast over him had him fixated in an almost trance-like state. Drunk with the feeling of her under his hands, his lips.

He was following instinct. He knew that she would wear the corset all night if he wanted her to. He knew that she would do anything for him, anything. So he wasn’t in a rush to disrobe her. He would take his time. Neither of them had to work tomorrow. They had twenty-four hours to do this. Over and over again.

As for right now, he knew what he wanted, what she needed. He unbuckled his pants and his hard cock sprang forth, ready and eager. She watched him, laying on her side, her hand propping her head up. Curled, with her bottom sticking out. He grabbed at his hardness, his tongue wetting his parched lips. Spreading himself out behind her, his arm folding over her, grabbing at her waist around the corset and pulling her closer. Closer, never close enough. He nudged between her folds from behind and slid in slowly.

He squeezed at her, as she reached up behind, her hand in his hair again. He lightly bit at her bare shoulder, looking over it and down at the overflow of her breasts jiggling as he ploughed into her over and over. Capturing each and every detail out of the moment, slowly. His lips at her neck, still drawing her closer still. He inhaled her and fought to stay in this motion. Like being on a boat, floating on the tides, the roll of the waves. Their hips rocked back and forth in rhythm together.

She twisted the top half of her body around, so that they could see into one another’s eyes. He was obsessed with her cleavage, running his hand across her, trying to tuck underneath the corset to free them. She placed her hand on his and quieted him with a hushed whisper. Shhh..

They moved at such a pace that it became hypnotic. The pleasure overwhelming. Completely losing themselves, feeling they would never resurface from this again. Yet he refused to move any faster, and she wouldn’t have let him. Not thinking it possible, they started to peak. The incense burning through the room, the sensuality of the moment, the clothing, the urgency and hunger, but fighting to maintain this pace, this control over themselves. He plunged his fingers back down, between her legs and rubbed his index finger in small movements, faster than his thrusts. She heaved against him.

“For me…” he whispered in her ear. He knew that her pulses would bring him over without having to completely fuck her. He was saving that for later. She obeyed, looking him dead in the eyes as she came. The intensity behind them firing him up. She breathed out, magical words from the very centre of her being.

“I love you…” She bucked suddenly, pressing her bottom against him, forcing him to push as deeply as he possibly could into her. He felt her. Pulsing around him, he groaned. Her eyes softening. Hazing slightly as she exploded around him. He was so connected to her at that point he felt his own orgasm take hold. Grunting, he allowed himself to pump into her in little faster movements. Taking his hand from between her legs and offering the fingers to her. Sharing the task of licking them clean between them. He moved himself so that could kiss her deeply, removing his fingers from between their mouths. He moaned into her mouth.

“I adore you, my love.”


End file.
